


Future Days

by minyardmonster



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, Allison is Andrew's manager, Andrew hates interviews and its very obvious, Andrew is a musician, Canon Compliant, Discussion of feelings, Like, M/M, Neil is a professional Exy player, an E rating because im australian and made Neil say cnt, andrew has a...reputation, based after the trilogy, fk you nora i refuse to believe otherwise, i hear ur alt! andrew and raise you this...folkpunk!andrew, musician au, no beta we die like men, some light making out but i wouldn't really call it nsfw, there's some swearing but wheres the surprise there, they get their confessions, theyre in love okay!!!!, well after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/pseuds/minyardmonster
Summary: Thank you to @nightquills on twitter for suggesting Neil's team name when my brain stopped functioning.-In the past, when they’d just begun learning to read each other, Neil’s soft tone and adoring smile would have lit a match under Andrew’s skin, made his blood boil with an unnameable anger. Now it only made his body hum, a gentle thrum of his bones that asked for nothing but want, nothing but Neil.-i just think they deserve to be soft.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 9
Kudos: 153





	Future Days

Interviews were a long drawn out process that Andrew had never had interest partaking in, and he loathed every second of them. He hated having to wake up early, only to be forced into tight clothes by people he didn’t want touching him and having obnoxious powder brushed over his face. He hated that make up artists insisted on making conversation with him no matter how noncommittal his answers were, was it not enough that they were allowed into his personal space  _ just  _ to make his waterline darker?

However, what he hated most about interviews was the on stage discussion itself. It was like a waking nightmare to sit there, vulnerable, in front of a live audience and discuss the meaning behind the music he wrote. Writing music had been a much needed catharsis in his teen years, to fucked up to let it fester in his head, the silver scars hidden under long sleeves a growing concern for the few people in his life that actually gave a shit about him. He was  _ tired  _ of being forced to lay out the most vulnerable parts of himself that, half the time, couldn’t even differentiate him from Aaron in a crowd.

It had been easier, though, since he’d started seeing Neil. Not that they had taken their relationship public in any sense, but it was a comforting weight to know someone was in the wings waiting for him, rolling their eyes for him when he himself could not. It also meant his music had taken a sort of...shift. His latest album, and whole reason for the stupid interview, had been much more light hearted then his previous works. Nicky had described it as sounding ‘ _ happy’  _ and ‘ _ content.’ “You don’t sound so lonely anymore, you’ve finally got someone in your corner.”  _ He’d supplied when Andrew had asked him to expand. An almost immediate regret, if regret was something Andrew was in the business of experiencing. None of these things where something Andrew felt particularly inclined to share with an audience, though

.

_ Really _ , Andrew thought as he walked out onto stage to greet the host and crowd,  _ how many unanswered questions and stony silences can one host take before they stop asking me back all together?  _ It was certainly a question he’d try and find the answer to tonight.

“Andrew, it’s good to have you!” The talk show host, John something-or-other, greeted him with too much enthusiasm and smiled with too many teeth. He lent forward from his seat with a hand extended in greeting. Andrew nodded at him in lue of a greeting, taking his seat across from John, making a point to stare at his extended hand until both it and John’s smile dropped. 

“So, Andrew, you must be excited for the release of your new album, ‘ _ and called it a home’ _ , right? I hear it’s taken quite the turn from your usual stuff.” 

“Sure.” Andrew glanced out at the crowd in front of him, slinking further into his seat. Consider that another thing he hated, not being able to see any of the endless eyes staring back at him from behind the stage lights. The mere thought made him sweat. “There’s definitely a different energy to the album that my previous music doesn’t carry.” 

“Are you not worried the sudden change will cost you a hefty portion of your fanbase? An album almost entirely dedicated to your... _ partner  _ certainly is different to your older albums.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, “I really don’t give a fuck-”

“If you could refrain from swearing-” John’s tone was tense, and he didn’t look all to pleased when Andrew dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. Allison would no doubt have his head later but he can’t really bring himself to care. He thinks of Neil back behind set laughing at Andrew’s obvious slip of the tongue. 

“Whatever. I couldn’t care less if people like it or not. It’s not for them, it never has been.” It’s clear John wants him to expand, wants to ask  _ who  _ exactly the album is for, then, but Andrew has no intention of doing so. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them until John eventually cleared his throat and moved onto the next question. The screen behind them changed out from a blank black, to what was a paparazzi shot of Neil and Andrew from several weeks ago. It had been from Neil’s last game of the season, a championship match he’d walked away from victorious. The photo showed the two of them outside the stadium, pressed up against Andrew’s maserati. Andrew remembered the way Neil had crowded him up against the door, caging him in and pressing a shit eating grin to Andrew’s neck. He’d apparently been a fan of the jersey Andrew had worn to the game, Neil’s team colours proudly on display with JOSTEN printed clearly against the back. Though Andrew’s skin crawled at the sight of the photo and his fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans where they sat in his lap, he was at least grateful his face was turned away from the camera. No one needed to know how red his face had been, fingers curled into Neil’s own shirt. 

“Is it safe to assume the album is about athlete Neil Josten, starting striker for the New York Newts?” 

This was another thing he hated, how likely a host was to hijack an interview and ask questions Allison hadn’t signed off on. Andrew narrowed his eyes at John, ignoring the excited murmur of the crowd in front of him. 

“Does it matter? I don’t see how that's any of your business.” His tone was scathing, he knew, but John didn’t look at all bothered. In fact, he seemed almost gleeful at having elicited a response from Andrew at all, and leaned back in his chair, that too wide smile plastered back on his face. 

“I know Josten came with you this evening as a guest, and It’s not like you haven’t been open about your sexuality in the past, using male pronouns in a lot of your music-”

“What,” Andrew spoke through his teeth, practically vibrating with rage in his seat. “Does that have to do with my personal life?”

“I apologise if I’ve upset you,” He did not sound apologetic in the slightest as he continued on, “but think about the role models you and Josten could be for queer youth.”

Andrew shot out of his seat, and made to leave the stage.  _ Fuck  _ interviews, and  _ fuck  _ this. “We’re the last people who have any business being someone’s fucking role model.” Andrew paused, only to kick at the chair he’d been sitting on in what was, admittedly, a childish display of anger, before storming off stage. He was ripping his mic off before he was even on the wings of the stage, shoving them into the hands of passing audio engineers as he searched for the 5”3 athlete. 

In the end, Neil found him first, scarred fingers grabbing the ends of Andrew’s sleeve to garner his attention. Andrew spared his boyfriend a glance before letting his hand slide into Neil’s and continuing towards the fire exit. It was one of few things they’d worked on over the years, a seamless action that no longer required a Yes or No. Their hands netted together like it hurt to be apart. 

Andrew relished in the sound of alarm bells as he pushed through the exit and into the car park. Andrew’s phone was blowing up in his pocket, vibrating often enough to be more than annoying against his thigh, and Andrew was quick to throw it into the backseat when they reached the Maserati. It wasn’t until Andrew was weaving between cars, driving with no destination and white knuckling the steering wheel that Neil spoke.

“Fuck them,” He was frowning down at his phone, scrolling through the endless headlines that had already been published. His thumb stopped over one in particular and Andrew caught sight of ‘ _ Monster Strikes Again’  _ out of his peripheral. 

“You really shouldn’t read that shit.” Andrew had managed to cool his temper while driving, but even with an impassive tone it was clear Neil didn’t believe he was suddenly unbothered by what had transpired. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not the first time they’ve called me a monster and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

There would always be nosy reporters and unwanted photos, always someone taking advantage of Andrew’s existence in this world, always a reason to lash out with words or fists. He was used to it by now.

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Andrew hadn’t realised he’d spoken out loud, but there Neil was, replying to him. He opened his mouth to continue but was interrupted by his phone lighting up in his hand. “It’s Allison.” Neil held his phone up so Andrew could see the caller ID, silently asking if it was okay to answer it or not. 

Andrew answered with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, and watched as Neil accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear. “He’s-yeah, no, he’s with me. He’s driving...Who  _ cares  _ what the show thinks? He was being a fucking cunt, Allison.” 

Andrew huffed out a breath that could of been passed off as a laugh. Neil had never been shy with expletives, but it was still always amusing to hear stronger language come from him. The conversation lasted another few minutes before Neil hung up and dropped his phone in the centre console. 

“Allison said you should apologise to the show host.”

“Not fucking happening.”

“I said she  _ said  _ you should, not that she thinks you should. Or that you will.” 

The two of them settled back into a comfortable silence as Andrew began driving with an actual destination in mind; home. 

The silence remained between them as Andrew pulled into the underground parking of their, frankly, expensive New York apartment. It remained as they toed their shoes off and fed the cats, and it remained as they crowded against each other on the couch, a blanket wrapped around them and the TV on, but muted, in front of them. Andrew was the first to break the silence, turning to face Neil from where he was tucked up into his side.

“I don’t care if people know about,” Andrew gestured between the two of them, “this. I’ve never cared.”

Neil tilted his head to the side, smiling softly. Andrew, in all the best ways, was painfully aware of how Neil’s thumb brushed absently back and forth against his thigh, a comforting and grounding sensation. 

“I know, ‘drew.” 

“I just don’t think it’s anyone’s business.” 

“I know.” 

In the past, when they’d just begun learning to read each other, Neil’s soft tone and adoring smile would have lit a match under Andrew’s skin, made his blood boil with an unnameable anger. Now it only made his body hum, a gentle thrum of his bones that asked for nothing but want, nothing but  _ Neil. _

Andrew was reaching for Neil’s face before he’d finished thinking about it, but that was  _ okay.  _ So rarely did they have bad days anymore, because how could they be haunted by cruel hands when surrounded by each other's loving touch.

Neil’s voice was soft when he spoke, face leaning into Andrew’s gentle touch. 

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Neil’s mouth was soft against Andrews. It was barely a kiss, just a press of mouths, breathing in sync. It made Andrew feel so  _ full.  _ Like the world could start and end right with this moment and it wouldn’t be enough to pull Andrew away from Neil Josten. Slowly, practised and learnt with the kind of time that only comes from a thousand shared kisses previous, Neil’s mouth moved against his own. The slide of lips against his own made Andrew’s fingers tingle, warmth blooming inside his chest. He felt Neil’s fingers curl up and into his hair and felt comfort. There was nothing to fear here between them, no desire to  _ consume,  _ and  _ take,  _ and  _ hurt.  _

They stayed like that for some time, lips pressed together, gentle touches drawing out keening noises. Andrew’s face was thoroughly flushed red when they pulled apart, Neil tucking his head into the crook of Andrew’s neck and placing a gentle kiss to the underside of his ear, smiling at the shiver it sent down Andrew’s spine. 

“Neil,” Andrew’s voice was so quiet even he wasn’t sure he had spoken, but Neil hummed in acknowledgement regardless, his hands dropping down and fanning out across Andrew’s waist. “I love you.” 

The words were like saw paper against his throat, and Andrew hadn’t even been sure he was going to say them until he had. A slippery kind of vulnerability only Neil could make him feel. Though the words were sour in his mouth, their intention and their weight were not. His skin prickled with how much he loved Neil Josten, and how loved he felt in return. No matter how heavy the words made him feel, Andrew would say them again and again, one for every grin he felt stretch out against his neck. 

Neil pulled back, eyes soft and caring  _ and so full of adoration and love.  _ He pressed another, softer kiss to Andrew’s mouth, and for a short, terrifying moment Andrew thought Neil would let the confession be consumed by silence. That he’d be left open and raw, exposed like live wire with no reassurance in sight. But, with a shaky breath, Neil spoke, words spoken straight from his mouth and into Andrew’s.

“I know. I love you too.”


End file.
